The Adventurers of Nerima
by WhiteIckyThing
Summary: A party of adventurers from Faerûn somehow end up in the normal Nerima chaos! How will they deal with it, and how will Nerima deal with them? *new* The fowlbades get into a fight after about ten seconds in Nerima, and Koja is left to deal with it!
1. Default Chapter

Another story From the Thing that is Icky and colored in an unsettling shade of White? Why, yes, it is! The imagination tends to run rampant occasionally, and the only thing to settle it is to let it free of it's leash of normality, unceartainty and sanity for a little while to calm down. This is a fic in wich my roleplay character and his band of mates end up, unlikely though it seems, in the Ranmaverse. Fun all around, that is! Yay! Btw, this is Good old D&D 3e we're talking about here, and the current campaign setting is Faerûn (fay-ROON), on the planet Abeir-Toril (Ah-BEER Tor-RILL), or just Toril for short. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, don't worry, no real knowledge of the world is needed to enjoy this. First up is the cast of characters, and this part will explain the people in some small detail. Refer to this page if a person's personality seems confusing. (Again, not really necessary.) The story proper begins in the NEXT chapter, this is just a lot of information, so if you want to skip this, go ahead.  
  
Faerûnian cast  
  
  
  
Koja Ikari, (My character!) Half-Elf fighter lvl 5, Traveller of the silken road lvl 10 (explained later), Darting blade lvl 5 (Again, explained later)  
  
Age: 31  
  
Alignment: Neutral Good  
  
Primary statistic: Dexterity (22)  
  
Belief: Shaundakul, the traveller god  
  
Preferred wepon: Chinese-style Longsword (Koja's Edge of the Soul)  
  
Koja is a gloomy person indeed. Rarely cracks jokes, rarely smiles even while laughing (difficult to do, but possible) and is full of sarcastic remarks, particularly to the sorcerer Blackbite, who he calls Badbreath. This may be because he used to be an assassin, but it is unconfirmed. He was an assassin since the age of sixteen through to his twenty-first year, and hasn't been the same since. (Rumor has it that he killed a thousand people during this time. The truth is closer to a hundred and fifty, but it's still a substantial amount.)  
  
He learned the sword art of a traveller from his foster-father, his real father having been killed in a caravan raid when he was an infant along with his mother. He never knew the man's real name, but got the name Koja from him (As a pun on the word Koji, meaning orphan.) Gods know where the Ikari part is from. The art this old man taught emphasizes flexibility, giving the wielder of a sword a great amount of choice in a battle that others do not have. Also, the immense focus on a single weapon taught by this school has made his longsword immensely magical, to the party's mage great envy. However, this style prohibits the use of armor, so he is never armoured at all- not even a shield.  
  
After his assassin days, in which he had been forced to kill his foster father, he turned to adventuring, and two years later met the party known as the "Fowlblades", referring to an unfortunate incident with a large amount of chickens in the party's past, which has emotionally scarred the party's priest, Nodrog. One encounter with dark elves later, he had been officially accepted as part of the band, no matter his opinion. He travels with them to this day.  
  
Later, while travelling in Kara-Tur with Quarion G'Kar, he met a weapon master who taught him the "Darting Blade" school of swordsmanship, an art focusing on movement. He is further developing the school on his own, and hopes one day to be able to teach others this art.  
  
He fears nothing but himself, and does so with reason. His assassin half has an annoying tendency to go berserk at unfortunate moments.  
  
Typical saying: "they say that duty is heavier than a mountain, death is lighter than a feather. But I´m in no hurry to find out if this is true. Do you want to find out?"  
  
*  
  
Quarion G'Kar, Half-Elf Fighter lvl 15, Weapon Master lvl 5  
  
Age:35  
  
Alignment:Lawful good  
  
Primary statistic: Strength (20)  
  
Belief: None  
  
Preferred Weapon: Bastard Sword (Any he can get his hands on), pretty much anything which can be used offensively, including the forceful application of the party's mage (pick up and throw)  
  
Large, blustering and clumsy big-mouth who is never satisfied after eating (which includes an incident with two roast oxen which no one had been looking after.) And, even with this, he is lean, though incredibly muscular. He is fond of drinking, carousing and performing pointless (though impressive) Feats of strength. He is cheerful at all times, thus making Koja (Who's sarcastic and gloomy to the extreme) his natural counterpart: They balance each other out in nearly every way. Where Koja is fast, Quarion is strong. Where one is without armour, the other is approximate to an entire armoury. Where Koja relies on speed, Quarion relies on strength, and so on and so forth.  
  
His parents were killed by a blue dragon, but he holds no grudge. This may be because he also had an artisan carve a drinking horn from one of the the dragon's horns after killing it. This remains one of the greatest victories the party has ever experienced, and also led to the destruction of the tavern known as "The whistling halfling" in the post-adventure party. The inn was later rebuilt and renamed "The adventurers' binge."  
  
He has a small phobia of the spell Telekinesis, due to the amount of times it has been cast on him by both friends and foes (which total over 89 seperate cases).  
  
Typival saying: "FOOOOOOD!" or, when being lifted through telekinesis, "You'd think I be used to this by now-oof!"  
  
*  
  
Estefan Galadrien, Elf Mage lvl 19  
  
Age: 167  
  
Alignment: Lawful Neutral  
  
Primary statistic: Intelligence (28 !!!)  
  
Belief: Mystra, the lady of magic  
  
Preferred weapons: Fireball spell, Throwing Quarion at opponents with a well-placed Telekinesis spell, Imp the talking short-sword of annoyance  
  
This one... well, in word, Estefan is a snob. The biggest one ever, according to his friends (This is his friends we are talkin about here) and even bigger to everyone else. Hates dirt, hates fighting, hates his shortsword (Imp) for backtalking and badmouthing him, and hates having to kill things without a reason. Why, then, is he an adventurer? Well, when one is snobbish, one needs money, right? And where else can you get large amounts of money but in a dragon's hoard, as well as the opportunity for a new spell or two?  
  
I rest my case.  
  
Needless to say, he always pushes for killing the really big guys with lots of gold in their treasuries. More usual, actually, is making Quarion and Koja (especially Quarion) do it for him. He also hates the sight of blood.  
  
He is mortally afraid of rodents. (Screams at the sight of a mouse, in fact.) Also fears Blackbite the sorcerer, though he would never admit it.  
  
Typical saying: "You uncouth barbarians!"  
  
*  
  
Nodrog Nameerf, Human Cleric lvl 19  
  
Age: 54  
  
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral  
  
Primary statistic: Wisdom (25)  
  
Belief: Tymora, the lady of luck  
  
Preferred weapons: A mace, a barstool, his head in a pinch, big flashy clerical attack spells, insults.  
  
Getting a bit bent with age, Nodrog is still no less a fighter than he ever was. His long, white hair and beard, covering a set of plate mail emblazoned with the symbol of tymora, is actally a good description of his personality in a fight. Wisdom and strength in equal measure.  
  
Outside a fight, he likes to get drunk. And then, naturally, brawl a bit. And getting even more drunk. And fighting. And getting drunk, and...  
  
Well, you get the picture. This explains why he has never managed to open a shrine or a temple anywhere. This does not put him into disfavor with his goddess, because he is known throughout Faerûn (and a bit beyond, in such places as the nine hells) as a force to be reckoned with, both when drunk and when sober. Most of the people he has converted have been former barflies, impressed with his skill in a fight.  
  
He fears only one thing. Ch-ch-ch-Chickens. He also hates them with a passion. He knows not why, nor how this came to be. He was forced into a pit full of transformed wolves (transformed into chickens, of all things) in one of his adventures, and has blocked out the memory. Therefore, if a chicken is around, he will run. When that is impossible, he goes insane and blasts everything in sight with holy flames of Tymora.  
  
Typical saying: "Right, we've killed the dragon, been to hell and saved the world twice. Now how does a trip to the pub sound?"  
  
(Here's an easter egg- reverse the name of this character and you get a hero from a certain computer game! I didn't get this joke for two years!)  
  
*  
  
Blackbite the nameless, Drow/half dragon sorcerer lvl 10 Dragon Disciple lvl 10 (Black dragon)  
  
Age: 185  
  
Alignment: Chaotic good  
  
Primary statistic: Charisma (23), Strength (22)  
  
Belief: None  
  
Preferred weapons: Acid breath, Claws, Bite, and lightning bolts. Nasty bastard.  
  
Blackbite, you ask? Well, dark elves (or Drow) are ebony black, He happens to be a black half-dragon and even before his eventual transformation into a half-dragon he had a tendency to bite in a fight. He has never revealed his true name, and Koja has reason to believe that the elf has forgotten his name in some fight or another; he's been hit quite often on the head. At least, that's the story according to Koja, to Blackbite's displeasure. He met the party just as the fowlblades were leaving the Underdark, habitual home of the dark elves. Koja dragged him outside and he has travelled with them since then.  
  
He always speaks in a serious manner, but doesn't really mean it- it's all an act, really, designed to gain attention. Koja knows this, and constantly teases him about it. (How much more attention does a black half-dragon dark elf sorcerer need, anyway? -Koja) (Shut up, Koja –Blackbite)  
  
He has no history that anyone knows of, no enemies and the transformation into a half-dragon happened slowly in the sight of his fellow adventurers. (and was, in fact, Koja's fault. He should have been watching where I was going, anyway! -Blackbite) (are you saying that you were blind before transforming, Badbreath? –Koja)  
  
He was kidnapped once by a dragon cult, for use as a sacrifice in a ritual, but the ritual failed, and it awakened the dragon within the sorcerer, so to speak. He´s big, he´s black and he´s got wings now. How's that for a failed ritual?  
  
He doesn´t really fear anything. If you were a black elf/dragon who can rip pretty much anything apart and has the choice of using either his claws or his spells to do it, you wouldn't fear anything either.  
  
Typical saying: "Koja, shut up." Also, "Cool! I gotta remember that one!" And, when casting spells, "Oops."  
  
  
  
Many others have travelled with them, but most have retired for other pursuits, and thus will not be included. Anyway, on to the story! 


	2. From the frying pan...

Part 1: From the frying pan...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Koja, Blackbite, Quarion, Nodrog and Estefan are the only things that I own in this story, as well as the plot. All other things are the property of their respective copyright holders. A slave learns to love the whip.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Picture, if you will, a vast desert.  
  
  
  
This desert stretches out in every direction. You can see before you the endless dunes, not a mountain or a raincloud in sight.  
  
  
  
In the hot air, two suns blaze, their light and heat making the place pretty much unbearanly hot, scorching the dunes with their light. Now turn around.  
  
  
  
Witness the most evil-looking tower you have ever seen. Details are hard to make out, due to the heat radiating off the black structure as well as the fact that it seems to shift before your eyes, like some sort of insect. This is just as well, for it is a domain of evil, and who knows what it could do to your mind if you actually could see it?  
  
  
  
Shudder, and turn around. The shuddering part shouldn't be too difficult, you'll manage. Now, see the strange little spots travelling towards the tower? It looks as if a band of adventurers have decided to come by and do their thing, namely prodding some evil buttock and generally be good guys. Why they would travel to a Plane long dominated by an undead terror known as a lich is beyond me, so don't look to me for answers. Maybe we'll see if we listen in on what they're saying, what do you say?  
  
  
  
--I----------*- -(supposed to be a gleaming sword. Does it look okay?)  
  
  
  
"Koja?"  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
"What are we doing in this blasted desert again?"  
  
  
  
"We found a book underneath the city of Suzail that mentioned a lich with a lot of treasure that resides in this plane, and Estefan duped us into joining him in killing it."  
  
  
  
"Ah."  
  
  
  
"Don't mention it, Badbreath."  
  
  
  
"Shut up, Koja."  
  
  
  
Now would be a good time to describe these adventurers. The two forming the rear are the two who have been talking, and quite a description it will be, too.  
  
  
  
The one in the back appears to be some form of elf, excepting his ebony skin and his short white hair. A member of the dark elven race, it seems. Strange to see one of them in a desert, since the race hates sunlight, sweating profusely and complaining about it. He seems unusually tall for an elf, and is dressed in an array of finery, with a silk shirt embroidered with an elaborate pattern around a single emerald by the neck, as well as loose silken pants. Where the skin is visible on his body, you can see black scales glistening in the bright light and from his back two immense draconic wings protrude, large enough to meet about a foot above his head when folded together. From the long canines in his mouth, one can understand why he is called Blackbite.  
  
  
  
His companion, walking in front of him, looks like a half-elven fellow. His pointed ears that hold back his long, black hair, are not quite as apparent as those of the drow elf behind him, and his green eyes appear to be a little less slanted. He looks like an experienced adventurer, if those scars on his face are any indication. He would be called a rather comely fellow if it weren't for the fact that a large scar goes down the right side of his face, and scar goes along his left jawline, crossed by a smaller one about halfway. Another scar goes down from the right side of his forehead, and travels diagonally down to the left over the nose until it stops under his left eye. His clothes are not much to look at: A common traveller's wear, along with impromptu headgear to ward off the heat. The only unusual feature is, in fact, the ribbons around his arms. Twenty ribbons, in all kinds of colours, adorn his arms, ten on each. What they are supposed to signify is not clear at the moment. This is Koja Ikari, a man of more mystery then you can shake a stick at.  
  
  
  
"Aw, c'mon, guys, cheer up! We get to slay more evil, and there'll be a party afterwards! What's there not to like? Come on Blackbite, don't tell me you don't like this!"  
  
  
  
This person, travelling in front of Koja, seemed comletely oblivious to the hostile stares he was getting from his friends, Who knew exactly how the fight AND the party afterwards would turn out to be like. Quarion, the person that spoke, had always been suicidally cheerful when sober and homicidally insane when drunk.  
  
  
  
He wears a small grin on his face, and stares out with his brown eyes at some imagined hoard of treasure. Nevertheless, he looks alert and he strains his pointed half-elven ears to hear any unwelcome sound. Considering the large amount of ornate armour this person wears, all inlaid with gold that seems to glow with power, it seems strange that he is not sweating at all, which may be causing some of the hostility of his companions. He carries a magical ring designed to keep the temperature around him at a cool summer breeze at all times, and therefore rarely complains about the weather. Strapped to his back is a large shield with the face of a lion on it, and by at side lies a bastard sword. He looks like the typical adventurer, blond hair, rippling muscles and a glowing smile, all rolled into one along with a lot of skill and luck mixed in. He is Quarion G'Kar, adventurer extrordinaire.  
  
  
  
"Hey, I'm all for a party! Why not just go back for a little pick-me-up to prepare? We have to keep our spirits high!"  
  
  
  
The current speaker appears to ignore the comment of "If you want to keep your spirits high, then why do you down them so quickly?" coming from Koja, as he also begins to fantasize about riches, though his appear to be seen through the bottom of a glass.  
  
  
  
This one appears to be human, and on the older side at that, judging by his silvery white hair. It, and the accompanying beard, are both long and add to a strange air of wisdom that appears to emenate from him. His dark eyes, now glazed over, peer out at the bright world they inhabit. He wears a suit of plate mail, with a symbol of a coin on the front, partially covered by his beard. He is holding an unadorned shield in his left hand, and by his right hand in his belt hangs a mace. World, meet the alcoholic cleric of Tymora, Nodrog Nameerf.  
  
  
  
"Is that all you barbarians can think of? Nodrog, you're a priest, you should be setting an example for the rest of us!"  
  
  
  
This voice can only be described as haughty. The person in question huffs and turns away, his nose in the air, and appears to be fuming with indignation. He is an elf, pointy ears and all, with immaculately cut blonde hair and green eyes, set in a face of perfect skin. He is obviously magically inclined, if the long red robes he wears are any indication, and carries a staff of power in his left hand. He also doesn't sweat, much like Quarion, but this is because of the shade provided by a parasol floating in mid-air next to him, providing some shade. This is Estefan Galadrien, and he will take offense if a common human such as yourself dares to utter his name if he has not given you permission to do so.  
  
  
  
He seems completely unresponsive to the sighs of his companions as they continue to walk to the tower in sullen silence. Suddenly the dark elf- Blackbite- breaks it once more.  
  
  
  
"Koja?"  
  
  
  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
"What are we doing in this gods-be-damned desert anyway?"  
  
  
  
"We found a book underneath the city of Suzail that mentioned a lich with a lot of treasure that resides in this plane, and Estefan duped us into joining him in killing it."  
  
  
  
"Right."  
  
  
  
"Will that be all, Badbreath?"  
  
  
  
"Koja, shut up."  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
See, I told you they were here to do a little good. The storyteller sees all, knows all. And, as is often the case, the bad guy has an uncanny knack for knowledge as well, and this one is prepared for the intrusion. Let's see what happens when the intrepid adventurers enter the black tower, shall we?  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
After Estefan had somehow managed to magically gain entry to the tower, the party had filed in only to discover that the exit had suddenly disappeared when noone was looking. This was not a good thing, and they knew it.  
  
  
  
"Estefan," came the voice of Quarion, "A little light please."  
  
  
  
"Bah. Very well!"  
  
  
  
The elf muttered a word of power and the top of his staff began to glow with a ghostly white light, illuminating the chamber. It was wast, far greater then could have been expected from the outside of the tower, with columns of great stone pillars stretching out in front of them.  
  
  
  
"Great. This place is bigger on the inside! Now where should we go?"  
  
  
  
Blackbite was not really afraid, he looked more annoyed than anything.  
  
  
  
As he spoke those words, however, it became apparent that he should be afraid.  
  
  
  
Hundreds of skeletons sprang up from behind columns or from hitherto unseen trenches dug into the floor. Bats swarmed everywhere above them, and they could distinctly hear the ghostly voices of wraiths an wights coming towards them.  
  
  
  
Koja, amidst the mayhem, spoke up.  
  
  
  
"Somewhere else would be preferable right now. Not that I'm complaining, though."  
  
  
  
Quarion looked at him with a puzzled expression.  
  
  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
  
  
Koja looked at the warrior with a gleam in his eye which could only be described as manic.  
  
  
  
"After that trek through the desert, we needed to stretch a little."  
  
  
  
The only answer from the warrior was an equally manic grin.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
Oh, my. This fight is certainly interesting to watch! See the grace which Koja uses to avoid his opponents, and at the same time striking them in critical locations with incredible finesse, making the skeletons crumble before him. He never just stands there, he's always on the move. Ah! That incredible jump over his companions' heads! Oh! The perfect landing, in which two of the skeletons lose their arms! You can barely see his sword move!  
  
  
  
And see Blackbite, his strength ripping the undead horrors asunder as we speak, his claws biting deep into magical wraiths and crushing the mundane skeletons! His wings batter a few arrows away even as he unleashes missiles of magic upon the enemy, his hands throwing darts of eldricht fire at a group of wights!  
  
  
  
See the sheer power of Quarion, his sword revealed as a magical firebrand! The magical tongues of flame lick and scorch the bones they touch, melts through armor, dispels the shadow of death! He simply stands there, unmoving, yet without fear as he strikes the enemy down in vast numbers with immaculate skill!  
  
  
  
Look upon Estefan, having cast a skin of stone upon himself with his magic, as he stands there unconcerned, occasionally casting some small incantation and whipping his short sword from it's sheath!  
  
  
  
And see the awesome power of Nodrog's faith as he lifts his holy symbol above his head! With the power of good, he dispels the undead even as they approach him, dozens falling wherever he looks, Turning the skeletons and allowing them to resume their rest!  
  
  
  
And all the time, the adventurers of the party known, for a reason best explained later, the "Fowlblades," slowly work their way towards a great spiralling staircase that looms in front of them. What will they find up there?  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
After some deliberation, the adventurers had decided to form a box around Estefan as they walked briskly up the great spiralling staircase, which was far too big to be held up by anything other than magic. They hadn't destryoed all of the skeletons of course- that would have taken too long- but a wall of force from Estefan had stopped any undead in the great hall from following them.  
  
  
  
Suddenly, a shout of pain was heard from Quarion.  
  
  
  
Nodrog was immediately at his side, ready to heal him with his spells if necessary.  
  
  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
  
  
Quarion grimaced as he held out his hand to Nodrog, who couldn't see any wound at all.  
  
  
  
"Where's the wound, you big oaf? Tell me already!"  
  
  
  
Quarion whimpered slightly as he pointed at his finger.  
  
  
  
"It's right there! Heal me already! Oh, please don't tell me it'll scar!"  
  
  
  
On Quarion's finger, a miniscule cut- about half an inch long- was visible.  
  
  
  
Nodrog took one look at the "Wound," blinked once and beat the warrior over the head.  
  
  
  
"You IDIOT! How many times must we tell you, YOU-ARE-NOT-VULNERABLE! I can't believe I have to put up with this nonsense!"  
  
  
  
Estefan sneered at the pair, pulled a scented handkerchief from his sleeve and held it to his nose.  
  
  
  
"He's one to talk. I'm the one who has to put up with both! As well as the horrid smell of this place!"  
  
  
  
His sword, still in his hand, suddenly spoke with a slightly metallic voice.  
  
  
  
"He calls that a cut? I've seen bigger wounds on cockroaches! Let me at him, boss, let me show him the meaning of pain..."  
  
  
  
Koja simply shook his head.  
  
  
  
"And I have to put up with all of you. Badbreath's the lucky one, he only has to put up with me."  
  
  
  
"Hey! Shut up, Koja!"  
  
  
  
Thus, the two in front – Blackbite and Koja- walked on in front, still arguing, with Quarion in the rear of the party, whimpering occasionally.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
Some time later, they had reached the top of the staircase, and stood in a laboratory high above the ground. Strange alchemical equipment, which looked as if a glassblower had gotten the hiccups while making it, bubbled with mysterious liquids, the skeletons and corpses of strange animals where propped up in various places and everywhere lay notes in some long forgotten language of this world.  
  
  
  
"Well, now what?"  
  
  
  
It didn't really matter who asked the question as a wave of fear and cold dread washed over them from somewhere behind them.  
  
  
  
The party looked at each other, dread in their eyes, even as Estefan slowly took position by Quarion without looking around.  
  
  
  
Slowly, the adventurers turned around, and saw a most horrifying sight.  
  
  
  
In front of them was a humanoid form, which looked as if it had belonged to a human, slightly hunched over, skin taut and stretched over the skeletal frame of this undead mage. He wore robes of black, which seemed to be made from darkness itself, and in it's empty eyesockets shone a terrible red light.  
  
  
  
Sure, the party may have been rather powerful, but the combined experience of the members in it totalled at most a bit above five hundred years, with age and everything taken into account, while a lich by its very nature has thousands of years to perfect it's magic. Thus, the outcome of this encounter was rather predictable. The lich spoke, and the party knew it was doomed.  
  
  
  
"Now, you die."  
  
  
  
With those words and a mere gesture, the lich opened a great gate in front front of them, and they were all sucked in by some strange and terrible force.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
All was darkness. All was pain. The companions plunged deeper, deeper through some crack in space and time, a place that was not a place and yet all places. Shimmering lights could be seen all around them, in constant motion everywhere, and a silent screm came from their throats as they realized that they were heading for one of the lights. They fell towards it (or perhaps it came closer) and they were immersed in its terrible heat.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
It is an irrefutable law of the universe that when fragile and heavy things are together, the heavy one will go on top of the fragile one sooner or later. One needs only look at people that place eggs in a shopping bag and then put the new food mixer on top to know this.  
  
  
  
Thus, it was perfectly natural for Estefan to be on the bottom.  
  
  
  
He fell from thin air, and almost immediately Quarion and Blackbite fell on top of him, with Nodrog following soon after. Koja, being the incredibly graceful fighter he was, rolled away from the pile and nimbly landed on his feet as if he had jumped off a rock instead of going between planes. He was thus the first to get his bearings.  
  
  
  
And the first thing he saw on earth was a young boy with a pigtail, staring with wide eyes straight at him.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
Author's notes: I have no idea when in the Ranma timeline this is- haven't quite decided yet... any suggestions?  
  
Don't complain about me not writing The Masters Of The Art recently- I have been writing, I'm just putting a few final touches on it. But the real reason for my slight absence was that I took on a grand quest.  
  
Ah, what quest is that, you ask? Well, I took it upon myself to find the Ultimate Fanfic. I know, you're laughing at my foolishness already. Well, what if I told you that I got pretty close to actually finding it?  
  
Yes indeedy, I found a masterpiece which seems to have been tragically overlooked by a lot of people. It is known, originally enough, as Ranma And Akane: A Love Story, and it's the best fanfic I have ever had the pleasure of reading. Yes, I lie not to thee, my faithful ones. This fanfic is by Shadow Lurker, and can be found on ff.net and here: http://www.kawaiikunee.com/slp/index-slp.html. I recommend downloading the requisite Mp3 files and listening to them at the appropriate points in the story. Do review this fic here on ff.net, or drop this most brilliant author a line or two. 


	3. ...into Nerima

Part 2: ...Into Nerima  
  
  
  
For a disclaimer, I refer people to look at the first chapter posted. I do not want to repeat myself. They-are-not-mine! Well, mostly. The same goes for part one.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
Koja wasted no time in assessing the boy's skill in case of a threat- after all, the lich might have any sort of minions to finish them off- and saw one of the greatest opponents he had ever met in front of him.  
  
Even as the boy looked at Koja's face, the half-elf was grimly calculating his chances to beat this kid (So young, perhaps he is not a minion?) and looking for escape routes from the immediate area. There were plenty for him, but none that his companions might use. He saw, to his surprise, that the boy's eyes widened at the sight of his ears. Good though the kid was, he seemed inexperienced- after all, how rare is a half-elf? For someone as good as this kid, he'd have to have met some other races and fought a good share of monsters- no one got this good from simple exercise.  
  
He glanced quickly at his companions, and saw to his dismay that they had barely begun to recover. He'd have to see wether the kid was a threat, and eliminate him if necessary.  
  
All these mental calculations took about three seconds. Koja was trained to act quickly, and excessive thought got in the way, so he thought quickly. Simple.  
  
He noticed the boy was stunned at the sight of Badbreath's wings- the sorcerer was good for something, after all- and spoke to the kid in the common tounge. Best do so now, while he had the chance.  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
Short and to the point. Much like Koja, in fact.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
Ranma was beginning to realize that this day was going to be one of the weirdest ever in Nerima, and that was saying a lot.  
  
First of all, a guy with scars all over his face had popped out of thin air, along with a bunch of... People... and looked at him as if he were some sort of an experiment, or possibly a bug.  
  
Then, there were those guys dressed in armor behind him, as well as one dressed in some sort of robes, all with wepons ready.  
  
Then there was that black guy with the pointed ears- which the scarred guy and one of those in armor had too- who had huge, black wings coming out of his back.  
  
[Ravh mure ðiv?]  
  
Oh, and the scarred guy spoke to him in some weird language, to top it all off. He heard Shampoo, Ukyo and the rest of the gang coming up behind him, so going to them for help was not really an option- most of them were out for his blood or his hand in marriage.  
  
These guys, whoever they were, did not seem very friendly and, knowing his father, they were probably after him as well.  
  
He wasn't sure what to do, so he fell back on the one thing he was sure wouldn't fail.  
  
Martial arts.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
Koja noticed that a lot of people were coming this way, all shouting something. He thought he recognized a few sentences in the language of Kara- Tur, so he decided to switch to that language.  
  
Before he could say anything, though, he saw the fighting stance the kid took, and immediately leapt into action.  
  
"You take care of the rest, I'll take this one!"  
  
He pushed his blade out of it's sheath with a thumb, making a small * Click * and drew it even as he kicked at the kid. Unsurprisingly to him, the kid dodged easily, and attacked back. But when Koja decides that he does not want to be hit, he won't be hit. He drew upon one of the many special techniques of his school to defend himself from the fierce assault- Leaf On The Breeze.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
[Ðiþ ðiájs mu anitser, gé éjs mu nanneþ!]  
  
* Click *  
  
Ranma dodged the first kick easily, and immediately went on the offensive. But then, the guy shifted his stance somehow, and Ranma, try as he might, simply could not hit him. The guy simply floated away, as if by coincidence, from all of Ranma's attacks. Sometimes it even seemed as if he flowed with some wind only he could feel!  
  
Ranma backed away, looking at his opponent as if in a new light, not even noticing what was going on around him. Ranma suddenly noticed that the guy had drawn a sword from somewhere. He realized, even as the guy prepared to attack, that he hadn't noticed it earlier because the guy wielded it as if it was a part of his body. Then Ranma suddenly felt a strong wind, and was blown away by it.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
The kid was good, true enough. He nearly got him a couple of times there. Koja prepared his most effective attack- the Lightning Of Three Prongs- in order to finish this as quickly as possible when he was suddenly blown away by a fierce wind. He twisted in the air to see Estefan pointing a hand in Koja's general direction and chanting. Gust of Wind was a useful spell, but someone had to teach Estefan to use spells only on enemies. They had lost more than one travelling companion due to his lack of care.  
  
He then tumbled in the air, and prepared himself to land when his head collided with the head of a young lavender-haired girl holding a huge painted pair of Bonbori, and all went black.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
And in the Nekohanten, an old matriarch of the Joketsuzoku tribe of amazons felt the distinctive tang of magic in the air, and knew that, somehow, Son- in-law had gotten himself into trouble again.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
Nodrog was the first to speak when the wind had blown the incoming horde of fighters away.  
  
"Right, let's skeedaddle like mice from Cormyr!"  
  
The rest of the party simply looked at him blankly. Nodrog sighed, then spoke again.  
  
"Run you sons of a motherless goat!"  
  
Now, it may seem strange for a party of highly experienced adventurers to run from a fight they might have won quite easily, but the fact was that if one voice spoke up, the others tended to follow it to the end without really thinking. This usually had dire and uncomfortable consequences, but that didn't stop them from doing it. The party had no designated leader: whoever took charge at the time was usually the one who was in the leading position. It was a strange version of calling dibs, but it worked.  
  
And thus, the party ran.  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
The assorted Nerimians picked themselves up off the ground, with one or two notable exceptions of course, and as was usual when something was off, everyone blamed Ranma for everything.  
  
"Curse you, foul Saotome! How dare you use your sorceries against the noble Blue Thunder? I shall smite thee were you stand, cur!"  
  
"PREPARE TO DIE, RANMA!"  
  
"Who the heck were those guys, Ranchan? Answer me, you jackass!"  
  
"How dare you allow my Shampoo to come to harm?"  
  
"OOOHOHOHOHOHOHO! Oh, Ranma dear, how incredibly forceful you are!"  
  
Ranma only counted his blessings for the fact that Akane wasn't there at the moment, then groaned as he remembered why- she was cooking dinner tonight. This was not one of his better days.  
  
Everyone stopped shouting, however, when a groan sounded behind them.  
  
The Nerimians looked around, and saw the stranger, his sword back in it's sheath and his head held with one hand, kneel next to Shampoo, checking her pulse. Most of them were stunned by his strange appearance. Not only did he have unnaturally slanted ears, he also had four large scars on his face – one down the right side of his face, one running along his left jawline crossed by another and the last sloping between the eyes. And that wasn't even considering his unusual appearance.  
  
He wore a simple tunic, which looked thouroughly antiquated, and a dark green cloak on his back. A pair of simple breeches and well-made boots of some unidentifiable material completed what looked like a medieval costume. And on his arms were tied twenty multicoloured ribbons, none the exact same colour, ten on each arm, which obviously signified a rank of some sort. And to the eyes of the martial artists, he was not only an experienced fighter but also a man who had killed and would not hesitate to do so again. And if the beautifully made, if plain, sword he wore at his side was any indication, he wouldn't be lacking the tools to do it with either.  
  
Seeing him examine Shampoo for injuries like an experienced doctor was not really an image that fit him.  
  
Koja had learned the art of survival, which not only included wilderness lore and hunting, but also many medical skills, such as a little herblore and basic surgeon's knowledge. It didn't hurt that knowing where the body's weak spots were was a definite advantage in a fight. Some thought this strange, but Koja thought it practical, and he had saved many lives using his abilities.  
  
He had, a moment before, been ready to kill all of them, but he never attacked a downed opponent and rarely one that wasn't actively attacking him. It was a certain code of honor he had developed, and it had never failed him yet.  
  
Koja, satisfied that the girl would be alright in a moment, got up on his feet and stared straight back at the assorted fighters in front of him. He saw no sign of his companions, which meant that Nodrog had taken command. The man never was willing to fight without having something to drink first, which was why they always brought along a few bottles of something stiff. Amazingly, facing the lich seemed to have sobered him up a bit.  
  
Koja opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a guy dressed like... one of his old associates... holding aloft a wooden sword and babbling something which sounded like Elminster high on Black Lotus in the language of Kara-Tur. Koja knew that language, and was unfortunately able to listen to the insane boy.  
  
"Ah! So the foul Saotome has conjured forth a demon, so that he need not face me in combat! But this foul creation, much like it's master, is no match for" – and he raised the practice sword into the air, and thunder sounded in the air – "The Blue Thunder of Furinkan high! I shall smite thee, demon! En guarde!"  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
Kuno slashed at the lowly peasant in front of him, who simply seemed to disappear, as if by some foul sorcery, in a blur, and the next thing he knew, his bokken had been sliced – along the edge – in twain, he had been forced onto his knees and had a very sharp sword at his throat. This was, if nothing else, enough to shut him up.  
  
Koja looked at the rest of the group, and spoke to them with only a hint of accent in his voice.  
  
"Anyone else want to try that?"  
  
He looked menacingly at the group, but Mousse ignored him and ran over to his beloved Shampoo,calling her name, to see if she was fine when she groaned slightly. Koja let him, seeing the care the boy so obviously held for her, and swiftly sheathed his sword.  
  
"Thought not. My name is Koja, I need some information, and I do not mean to test your fighting skills in any way. Who of you can provide that service?"  
  
Mousse spoke up behind him, a hint of gratefulness and relief passing his face when the girl-Shampoo-sat up.  
  
"I can take you to elder Cologne. It's the least we could do for you in return for your help."  
  
With those words he bowed in thanks, making Shampoo a bit confused as to what he was doing.  
  
"Mousse- why you bowing to outsider man?"  
  
Koja answered, bowing as well, before Mousse could answer her.  
  
"Thank you, but my help was not needed. She was simply knocked out for a moment."  
  
Just then, Ryoga spoke up, not happy about not knowing what was going on.  
  
"Just what do you want here anyway? You'd better not be looking for the Tendo dojo, or..."  
  
"What's so special about this Tendo dojo that I should be aware of? And where did that boy in the red shirt go?"  
  
And indeed, Ranma was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"RANMA, YOU COWARD!"  
  
The gang, excluding Mousse, Shampoo and Koja, instantly ran off in search of Ranma.  
  
Koja then looked at the strange wall (All of one stone!) and spoke up.  
  
"You can come out now, boy. I assume your name is Ranma?"  
  
Ranma jumped up onto the wall, a bit surprised that Koja had noticed him.  
  
"Yeah, that's me. You're not after me or my pop?"  
  
Koja slowly sheathed his sword, and looked up at Ranma.  
  
"No, I do not have any business with you or your... pop," he said, unsure of just what the word meant. "I'm simply stuck here for now. Where is here, anyway? I have never seen streets or buildings such as these before."  
  
Mousse, still doting over Shampoo who had turned out to be too dizzy to glomp Ranma, answered the question for Ranma, both of whom were looking at Koja strangely.  
  
"You are in the Nerima ward of Tokyo."  
  
Koja blinked a bit, then sighed. He had never seen these sort of buildings before, the people were strange here- that girl with the spatula was hopelessly trying to pass off as a guy, for some reason- and he had never heard of either Nerima or Tokyo, which meant that he was not on his world.  
  
"Could you take me to this elder you mentioned earlier? I have a feeling that I'm not going to get home anytime soon."  
  
"Yes, I can. Just follow me."  
  
Ranma shrugged, then nodded at the group.  
  
"Yeah, well, see ya later. And Koja?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"If ya ever wanna spar a bit, just come to the Tendo dojo, okay? You're pretty good – though not as good as me, of course."  
  
Koja grinned at the implied insult, and decided that he liked this kid.  
  
"I expect you to put your money where your mouth is, Ranma. Be seeing you."  
  
Mousse attempted to pick up Shampoo, who immediately knocked him on the head with a bonbori.  
  
"Shampoo can walk herself, stupid Mousse! Shampoo not need your help!"  
  
She got up, only a little unsteady, and jumped on the rooftops, in the direction Ranma had gone earlier, shouting something about an 'airen', whatever that was. He checked Mousse's scalp for damage, but the boy just got up and sighed. He turned around and spoke.  
  
"She always has to go after that casanova, Saotome. When will she realize that he's not the right person for her?"  
  
"I have no idea, Mousse, and I think that post you are talking to isn't going to be of much help, either."  
  
Mousse adjusted his glasses, and saw that he was, indeed, facing a lamppost. He hung his head, then looked at Koja.  
  
"Well, I better keep my promise. Can you roofhop?"  
  
"As in, jump across the rooftops? I suppose so, though it's not my preferred method of travel."  
  
"Good. That way we'll be a lot quicker."  
  
Mousse jumped up on a nearby roof, and looked behind him to see Koja rising impossibly high, gracefully flipping and twirling in the air, before landing on a roof three houses away from Mousse. He couldn't believe his eyes! Koja had used his chi to increase the distance threefold from what would have been normal!  
  
"You coming, boy?"  
  
Mousse closed his mouth, which had been hanging open, and jumped after Koja, showing him the way. He'd have to find out how he had done that!  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
The rest of the fowlblades ran on for a while, before Blackbite noticed something.  
  
"Where's Koja? And where are we, for that matter?"  
  
The party stopped, and everyone decided that they had no idea about either of those questions. The buildings and streets were all made of solid stone, there were strange, foul smells in the air and the streets were a complete maze. Wherever they were, they were not home. And they had left Koja, generally considered by the rest of the party to be a short-tempered, barely controlled homicidal maniac who had once been a very successful professional killer, alone to fend for himself. That meant that this place was not likely to be a good place to stay pretty soon. Koja had an annoying habit of going a bit insane every now and then, and was hunted throughout the cities of Faerûn for what had been termed "Massive Manslaughter" by a particularly nasty bard. He hadn't killed too many people himself, but it all got blamed on him anyway.  
  
"Oh, damn and blast! That bloody maniac had to be the one we left behind! Why couldn't it be crybaby here?"  
  
Quarion did not like being insulted by an alcoholic priest, and it showed.  
  
"Oy! Look who's talking! It was your idea to run in the first place!"  
  
Estefan had had enough of both of them, and acted upon that thought.  
  
"Shut up, both of you! Look, see that building over there?"  
  
The party looked at a rather large building, which happened to be Furinkan highschool, and decided that this was some sort of a town hall.  
  
"You guys will split up and look for Koja, and I'll be here to see if I can scry on him. We'll meet back here at sunset, allright?"  
  
Blackbite didn't quite think that sounded right.  
  
"Why are you the one who gets to stay behind?"  
  
"Because I am the most intelligent and refined person in this party. I deserve a little rest from your idiocy."  
  
The party ignored his insults completely. They had become immune to the haughty elf early on, which was why he was still alive.  
  
Blackbite simply growled, then looked worried for a moment before flying into the air, his great black wings beating, and turning himself invisible. Nodrog went to comb the bars – purely for informational purposes, wink wink- and Quarion walked off into a random direction for all of two minutes before getting distracted by the smell of food.  
  
He sniffed the air, and headed towards a small resturant, named "Ucchan's" in Kara-Tur. A little snack couln't hurt, and besides, Koja was sure to be hungry as well. He just might run into him!  
  
  
  
--I----------*-  
  
  
  
A/n: And that's it for this chapter! Next, Quarion eats a lot of food and gets into trouble- How likely is it that Ucchan's accepts Cormyrian golden lions as currency, after all? See you there! 


End file.
